From a series of poems written during my stay in Lapland.
Wrapped in silence,
I walk toward
the sinking sun
in front of me,
and all around
the world turns rosy.
A car passes by,
filling my nostrils
with something syrupy,
almond‑like,
artificially heavy,
while everything is light.
It does not belong
to this picture,
it’s so unwelcome,
yet it lingers
for a moment
too long,
before the scent
of puffy snow
takes back its place
right where Inari
and Sodankylä
shake their hands.
The sunset sky is ablaze,
fireballs swirl in the blue,
scattering all their flames,
a show of elegance inconnue.
As if a wizard threw
a kaleidoscope in the air,
being here feels quite illegal
without any ticket to pay.
But as nature always teaches,
the flamboyant-hued oddities
often hide beneath the surface
the deadliest poisonous beings.
This synthetic sky is no less
for it is the doomed produce
of stifling dry spells,
of all the air we pollute.
(The wind stinks of fumes
exhausted as our lungs.)
Perhaps this bright performance
is a fateful yell,
a dance of burning colours,
a common cry for help.
Cosmic & Uneasy 